


The End Was Soon

by addy_is_not_a_laddy



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Constructed Reality, Gen, How dare the movies do him this dirty, Nightmares, One-Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, This boy needs so much therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addy_is_not_a_laddy/pseuds/addy_is_not_a_laddy
Summary: Peter had already lived most people's nightmares, and then he lived through the very fabric of reality bending and twisting beyond his control.  A few more weeks of this and Mysterio wouldn't have had to frame him.





	The End Was Soon

Peter woke up clinging to the ceiling, fist raised and ready to punch the wall in front of him. He could hear May calling him distantly, but all he could see in his mind’s eye was shifting walls and echoing laughter. His fist pulled back to his chest as though snapped from a rubber band, and he scuttled a little closer to a corner of the ceiling so he could take stock of the room. The laughter started to fade, but he kept his hands on the wall. The texture of the wall, the texture was slightly bumpy and it was cool to the touch. He rubbed his fingers on it, trying to ground himself. The paint was just a bit rough, probably an eggshell.

  
He blinked hard, and looked around his room. His closet was open, spider-suit hung over the bar. His stark-suit was in its case in the corner. His bed was disheveled and there was… a new hole in the wall. Fuck. He shook his head a bit and realized he could still hear his name being called. May stood in the doorway, her face carefully blank, saying his name every few seconds in a calm voice. He huddled even harder into the corner, and she shifted once she saw him making eye contact.

  
“Peter. Peter, honey, can you come down for me?” He realized he was shaking.

  
“Something only you know.” 

“Last weekend I forgot to knock when I came into your room, and you were dancing in your mech-suit to Beyoncé.” 

He huffed an almost-laugh, and shook his head. “Farther, its gotta be farther when they couldn’t have been watching.” He was already relaxing despite himself, and he couldn’t trust it he couldn’t trust-

“You gave me Ms. Snuggle the night you came home with me after. You said she helped with your nightmares, so I said we should share her for a little while so we could both get help.” Her voice was still that careful calm, and— that was safe. She was safe. It was safe.

He felt himself go boneless, and landed too-hard on his bed. He barely missed the headboard, but when he bounced he landed on his feet in the small clean space on the floor. Peter sat down hard on the ground, and put his head between his knees, hands in his hair. He could smell his dirty clothes pile now, and the faint smell of popcorn from earlier in the evening was still lingering in the air. He rubbed his hands on the carpet, rough and cheap. He listened to the sound of the carpet and his hand, and listened as May shuffled loudly toward him. 

“Peter, can I have a hug?” She always asked, after- well. He hadn’t actually hit her but he was surprised she still trusted he wouldn’t.  
He nodded, and braced for her touch. She was warm, and held him like the world wasn’t ending. Like he hadn’t fucked up again and again until everything he touched was worse than when he’d started. She reached for his hand, and pressed a chocolate into it. 

“And one thing to taste, right Peter?” He absolutely had done nothing to deserve his aunt. He unwrapped the chocolate quickly, and stuffed it in his mouth before he could start crying properly. The instant it started to melt, he was clutching back at May, and trying not to choke on chocolate through his crying and shaking. 

“He had Tony’s face, and then Thanos’s, and it was the end of the world all over again and again and no matter what I only ever hit air or I was falling or I was running and nothing was good enough and nothing’s good enough how-” he hiccoughed into May’s hair, and tried not to hold on too tight. She was humming into his ear now, a meaningless up-down of two notes that reminded him that she was there. 

“I can’t keep track I can’t remember if I did enough of the-”

“You’re here with me Peter, we’re in your bedroom. You’re at home, you’re safe, and everything’s fine.” She pulled back and put her hands slowly onto his face, lifting it so he was looking her in the eye. “This is real.”

—

When he looked up at the screen, crouched on a light pole on a street corner, he had never wished more that it wasn’t real. Peter had thought the nightmares and the random certainty that nothing was real would be the legacy that Mysterio left him. He wished it could have been. His own face smiled awkwardly back at him, and he froze until it disappeared. Before the news footage cut he launched himself as far away from the shreds of his life as he could, phone already in hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, one thing you can taste. These are things that a therapist will tell you to use to ground yourself during, or after a panic attack, among other things. May... I can't even imagine how awful this has to be for her, and she's still trying so hard to be what Peter needs. Unseen is the way she breaks down when she's (absolutely, completely, ridiculously) sure that Peter cannot see or hear.


End file.
